Birthdays, Optimus Prime, and the Meemster

I'm watching Big Love as I write. My tummy's full of pork chops and rice, and I am on the tail-end of the best weekend in a long time. We've been so productive lately, but all this relationship work has been... well, work. And this year has been so painful and difficult to walk through. I'm tired. God, I hate it, but I am always tired. It was refreshing this weekend to just have fun. Put all my worries aside about what's wrong or right and what isn't (for example, is it weird celebrating a birthday with your estranged husband who you are still legally married to and want to patch things up with? Who cares. Let's just party.), and just have a great time. Woohoo.

I was going to write about all the fabulously normal things I did this weekend--outlet shopping and chatting with K, dinner and dancing last night (I've never been out dancing before! Can you believe it?), breakfast with Al and Chris this morning, kid time, nap time, Winco time...


Henry has other plans though. Miss Roo too. Forget anything I was going to write about. Here's the conversation we just had, as best I can remember it.
...

Me: (hugging my little Henry as he said goodnight) Hey bud, come here and give me a snuggle. How are you this big? Are you my same little boy who was in my tummy?

Hank: Yeah. Hey, when I was in your tummy, and I got out, did I rip it open everywhere? (waves arms wildly)

Me: (laughing) No.

H: How did I get out then?

M: The doctor cut my tummy so you could get out.

H: (Looking at his stomach. Thinking about how one cuts a hole in a tummy.) Oh.

M: Hey, you DON'T EVER TRY THAT, OKAY? You don't cut a hole in your tummy or anybody else's. Got it? That's only for special, and only for doctors who know how, when they need to get the baby out.

H: Okay. Did it hurt?

M: Yes. A lot. But I was okay. The doctor made it better.

Addie: I am NEVER having a baby. I'm too scared it is going to hurt.

H: Me either. But the doctor made it better.

A: You can't make me watch it.

M: (unsure of how Addie thought she'd ever have to watch that taking place) Henry, boys don't have babies in their tummies.

H: YAY!

M: (Laughing uncontrollably, then grabbing him again to snuggle.) Hey. Who's your girl, Henry?

H: You are.

M: That's right. For always. Well, until you get your own girl when you get married. But then I'll still be your mommy.

H: Really? Like even when I'm 130? I mean 30?

M: Yeah, bud. Even when you're 30. I'm always going to be your mommy. Daddy has a mommy still. What's her name?

H: Uh... Heather?

M: NO. Come on. What's her name?

H: Uh...

M: Grandma Mary?

H: Yeah.

M: No, bud. Grandma Mary is my mommy. Who is Daddy's mommy? And Auntie's?

H: Um. Mimi.

M: Yeah. What's Mimi's name? Do you know Mimi's name?

H: Meemster.

M: (laughing, again.) Yeah, Meemster. But what's her real name?

H: (pausing) Ursula.

M: (more laughing) No, not Ursula.

Eric: Maybe he really doesn't know. (To Hank:) Buddy, what does Papa call Mimi?

H: Um... Optimus?

M: No... Linda!

H: Oh! Yeah! Linda.

...

Forget TV. It doesn't get any better than Hank on a Sunday night.